


Incident of the Cook's Louse

by jill_ian



Category: Rawhide (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mushy POV, well mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-19 18:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jill_ian/pseuds/jill_ian
Summary: Mushy would be the first one to admit he wasn’t exactly the sharpest in the outfit. So to say that he had missed this wouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone.





	Incident of the Cook's Louse

Mushy would be the first one to admit he wasn’t exactly the sharpest in the outfit.

There’d been that one time Wishbone had sent him into town to get bandages and he came back with eggs. Nobody was real mad at him for that, but he sure did get an earful about it later when Rowdy got a gash on his arm and had to wrap it with his bandana.

There’d been that other time he left a brand new bag of flour out in the rain and nobody talked to him the whole rest of the day. He supposed he deserved that.

Then there’d been that time he saw a snake and dropped the reigns of the horses pulling the chuck wagon. Pete had to spend a good hour trying to get them back and all settled down. He was lucky they were only a mile outside of where they were supposed to set up noon camp or else Wishbone would’ve left him for dead on the side of the trail.

So to say that he had missed _this_ wouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone.

He guessed he first started noticing something was kind of different a couple weeks ago.

It started with little things, hardly even noticeable.

It was no secret that Mr. Favor tended to get a lot less sleep than the rest of the outfit. Last asleep and first awake. It was more than likely that the stress of the trail weighed too heavily on his mind to ever allow a deep sleep, but he barely ever got a full night’s rest.

Neither did Mushy, but that didn’t bother him much. Wishbone would wake him up real early most days, wanting to get ahead with getting coffee on the fire and breakfast made. Mushy supposed it was easier that way, rather than hearing everybody moan that they were hungry all morning.

The boss was always first in line.

Except this morning, when Mushy handed him his coffee mug, he asked if he could have another one along with it.

“Well sure, Mister Favor,” he replied, pouring coffee from the steaming kettle into a second mug and handing it over. “You could always jus’ come back for another, you know. It ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“I know,” and that was all the answer he got, the simple two words called over his shoulder as he walked back across to the other side of camp.

Mushy furrowed his brow. Mr. Favor always came back for seconds. Maybe he just couldn’t be bothered to come back over today. Maybe he wanted to make sure he got two before everybody drank the rest.

Everybody was still mostly asleep and there wasn’t much more to do with the food, so Mushy watched Mr. Favor as he sat back down on his bedroll. Not a foot away was Rowdy on his own, turning over at the noise.

He rubbed at his eyes and mumbled something Mushy couldn’t entirely make out, something that sounded a little like, “What’re you doing?”

“Nothin,” Gil said, holding one of the mugs out towards him.

“S’at for me?” The words were slurred and half-awake, but the surprise in his voice was impossible to miss.

“Don’t see anybody else around that would want it instead, do ya?”

Rowdy's eyes wandered for a second, looking around them and taking in the fact that everyone else was still sleeping. “Guess not,” he said and the corner of his mouth quirked up in the tiniest smile. He sat up and reached for the mug, taking a testing sip. “Thanks.”

Gil said nothing, opting to smile instead. He got up off his bedroll and walked over to sit on a large boulder that overlooked the herd, his back to the camp. Rowdy followed after a moment, sitting down next to him. There was the slightest inch of space in between them, but any time either of them moved, their shoulders would brush.

They sat mostly in silence as the sun rose in the sky, sipping their coffee in the peaceful morning calm that only came when you were the only ones awake. When they did speak, it was too quiet to hear.

Mushy paid them no mind after a few minutes, figuring it was more important to busy himself with serving up breakfast anyway now that the rest of the drovers were starting to wake up.

After that morning, it wasn’t like the boss always made it a habit to ask for a second mug. Sometimes he did, other times he’d just take his own and be on his way.

Sometimes Mushy would give him a second before he even asked, just cause. Even if the boss hadn’t been expecting to get it, it always went to Rowdy. Nobody else.

 

* * *

 

Mushy wasn’t sure when he started noticing this next piece, but once he did, he damn near saw it almost every day.

It was fine and perfectly harmless, but it certainly stuck out.

Wishbone had just finished serving up supper to everybody. Well, everybody except for Rowdy, who was out making his rounds and making sure everything was in order before he relaxed for the night.

Mr. Favor stood leaning against the chuck wagon while he ate his food.

He had this one story he told that Mushy like better than all the others. There was this one river crossing somewhere in Texas and one time Mr. Favor was on a drive where they tried crossing it through the rain and the thunder and the lightning and the river had flooded and everything had gone wrong, but somehow they made it across without losing a single steer.

That one was Mushy’s favorite and since Mr. Favor didn’t seem to be doing anything else, he asked him to tell it to him again.

About halfway through the story, when all the beeves and the horses were stuck out in the middle of the river, Rowdy rode up and hopped off his horse, heading straight for the chuck wagon. He stood next to Mr. Favor and began listening to the story, too.

Mushy was putting a plateful of food together for him, but he paused and looked up when Mr. Favor got to the best bit of the story: when a lightning bolt struck a tree so close to them that half the herd had taken off out of fright and they had to go wrangle them up on top of the rest of the madness.

While he was looking up, he watched as Rowdy took the boss’ bread off his plate and ripped it in half. He put one half back down and started eating the other.

Mushy was so shocked he nearly forgot to keep putting Rowdy’s plate together. It took him a second, but after a slight shake of the head, he got back to it and kept on listening to the boss’ story.

Mushy thought maybe that was a one-time thing because he was starving and hadn’t eaten in hours. Rowdy could put food away so easily that sometimes Mushy thought he had two stomachs or something.

It didn’t stop there though.

Two mornings later, he took a piece of bacon off the boss’ plate as he walked by to go mount up for the day.

That same night while the two of them were sitting and talking, the boss had a cheroot in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. Rowdy took the mug from him, took a sip, and put it right back in his hand. Gil didn’t so much as flinch.

Mushy gasped when he saw that. Everybody knew how sacred Gil handled his coffee. Wishbone let out an exasperated sigh next to him.

“Now what are you gaspin’ at like that? You’ll give a man a heart attack makin’ them kinds’a noises.”

“Didn’t y’see?”

“See what?” Wishbone asked, eyes scanning the camp for signs of anything strange happening. “I don’t see nothin’.”

“Well, it was Mister Rowdy.”

“What about him?”

“He drank the boss’ coffee right out of his hands!” he exclaimed.

Wishbone rolled his eyes. “Is _that_ what you’re gettin’ yourself in a twist for?”

“He’s eatin’ Mister Favor’s food all’a time now, too,” he added, trying to prove himself.

“Oh Rowdy always does that,” he stated rather matter-of-factly. “The boy’s a walking-talking stomach. Never could keep his hands off of other people’s plates.” And they left the conversation at that.

At least now Mushy knew he wasn’t completely crazy if Mr. Wishbone knew about it, too, but it still didn’t stop him from seeing it more.

Two days after the coffee incident, they were all eating supper around the fire. Rowdy’d finished his food well before everyone else did, even though Wishbone made it clear when he handed him his plate that they didn’t have enough for seconds tonight, so he ought to eat slowly. Naturally, he didn’t take the suggestion, usually didn’t.

Clearly still hungry, he was eyeing the last potato on Gil’s otherwise empty plate.

When Gil finally noticed a few minutes later, he rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind the gesture was undeniable. He held his plate out. “Go ahead.”

A crooked smile pulled at Rowdy’s lips as he took it off his plate and everyone around them laughed.

Mushy didn’t know what to make of any of this anymore. Maybe the boss just wasn’t as hungry lately? Maybe he was sick? Maybe he was losing his appetite? That would’ve been hard to believe because he did probably twice the amount of work everybody else did, but Mushy guessed anything was possible these days.

It got even more confusing for him the next day when he watched Pete reach over to try and take a piece of the boss’ bread off his plate. Without even looking up, Mr. Favor poked Pete’s hand with his fork. Pete pulled his hand back and narrowed his eyes.

“What was’at for?”

“You know mighty well what it was for.”

“Well Rowdy always does it! I just thought-”

“Ain’t your name the last time I checked.”

For a second it looked like Pete was going to keep arguing, but he ultimately decided to drop it.

Mushy didn’t miss the way Rowdy was smiling to himself behind them.

 

* * *

 

The next time Mushy could remember noticing something out of the ordinary was a couple weeks or so after that other nonsense began.

They’d been riding along a fairly easy patch of the trail, pushing the herd along steadily. The ground was flat, the sun was high in the sky, and there wasn’t a cloud as far as your eyes could see. You couldn’t dream up a better day if you tried.

Wishbone had the reigns that day, so Mushy was watching a bit of everybody to pass the time. Sitting there could get awful boring sometimes.

He watched Pete talk to the boss and then ride off into the distance until he was nothing more than a speck of dust. He watched the boss ride up and down the herd, surveying everything and everyone, making sure there wasn’t a hair out of place. He watched Quince at the flanks and Joe riding a brand new horse that they were trying to break in a little better.

And then out of nowhere he watched Rowdy take off full speed after a stray. He was riding so fast Mushy thought he might even be able to outrun a bullet.

He was well off to the races when his horse stopped suddenly and kicked back on his hind legs. Rowdy was thrown off and hit the ground harder than Mushy thought he’d ever seen somebody fall before.

You see, this sort of thing happened fairly often. It was bound to in this kind of work and normally Rowdy would brush it off and get back to it quicker than anybody.

Except instead of springing right back up like normal, Rowdy stayed on the ground and didn’t move, all curled up on his side. His horse kept on running.

“Mister Wishbone!” Mushy yelled as he grabbed onto his shirt sleeve and shook it, panic rising at the fact that Rowdy still hadn’t moved yet.

“For cryin’ out loud,” Wishbone let out an exasperated breath. “Why can’t you ever sit in peace and quiet for more’n a minute?”

“But-”

“But nothin’. I said shut it.”

“Well I would but-”

“It ain’t that hard. You just shut your trap and-”

“But Mister Wishbone, it’s Rowdy!” He finally got the words out out, pointing over to him with his free hand. Wishbone followed the line of his finger and his eyes widened the moment he caught sight of him.

“Well why didn’t you just say so!” Wishbone exclaimed and stopped the chuck wagon, running over to him, yelling, “Mushy, grab my doctorin’ bag!” And he did, hurrying close behind.

They knelt down next to him, careful not to bump into him. His eyes were screwed shut real tight.

“Rowdy?” Wishbone tested. “Rowdy, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he choked out between labored breaths.

Wishbone reached out and put a testing hand on his shoulder, but took it right back when it caused a sharp inhale on Rowdy’s part. “Okay,” he said. “This ain’t gonna be pleasant, but we gotta turn you on your back.”

Mushy made out the word, “Can’t,” between another set of harsh breaths.

“Well I can’t tell what’s wrong with ya when you’re all balled up,” Wishbone argued. “So the sooner we do this the sooner it’ll be over.”

Rowdy gave a reluctant nod of his head and then turned slowly, holding his breath as he settled onto his back, Wishbone helping ease him down. “There you go.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mushy saw Mr. Favor ride up next to them and jump down off his horse. He knelt beside them, his mouth worked into a deep frown.

“What happened?” he asked, attention locked on Rowdy as Wishbone began to examine the damage. Rowdy’s eyes opened for the first time since the fall, flicking over towards Gil before he squeezed them shut again.

“Fox threw him off real good, Mister Favor,” Mushy said.

Gil nodded, watching the way Wishbone was now touching different parts of his chest and torso. A few of the spots elicited a gasp or a moan or a weak flinch. None of it sounded good at all.

“Wish, what’re you thinkin’?” The boss’ tone was stern and serious, but none of that could mask the worry.

“I’m thinking it’s a few cracked ribs. We hafta get him somewhere where he can rest.” He used that definitive tone of his that meant no one could argue with him.

“Guess here’s as good a place as any to set up camp,” Mr. Favor said as he stood up and got back on his horse, riding over to tell the rest of the drovers that this was as far as they were going today.

It took a little while, but once camp was all set up, a few of the men helped settle Rowdy into the back of the chuck wagon. Wishbone had wrapped him all up and now the best they could hope for was that he’d get some rest. Maybe he’d be able to sleep off some of the pain.

Wishbone also put Mushy in charge of checking on him every so often to make sure nobody was bothering him and to see if he needed anything.

Mushy sat on the ground, leaning with his back up against one of the wheels of the wagon. He figured this would be as good a place to be as any if Rowdy needed help, with it being so near and all.

He asked for water once or twice, but was quiet other than that. He’d barely said a word since he fell and Mushy couldn’t remember a time Rowdy’d ever been so quiet. Rowdy could bounce back from a spill better than anybody else he knew. It was making him feel awfully strange.

When Pete got back from scouting the trail up ahead, he was surprised to see that they’d already settled and made camp. They were supposed to be a couple miles north. When Wishbone explained what happened to Rowdy, Pete went right over to the chuck wagon to see how he was doing.

He kept him company for a while and Mushy could tell that it was helping. He could hear a lot from his spot on the ground and he was relieved when Rowdy was finally talking a little bit more. He was laughing, too, and Mushy felt like a weight was being lifted off of him at the sound.

Pete and Rowdy were like brothers and seeing him probably helped take Rowdy’s mind off the pain for a little while.

It wasn’t long after Pete left him alone that he had another visitor. This time it was Mr. Favor who climbed into the wagon to keep him company.

Mushy was still sitting on the ground, cross-legged with his chin on his fist and drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick as he couldn’t help but listen. He was too close not to.

“Hiya Boss,” Rowdy said. His voice was strained, but Mushy knew he was probably doing his best to smile through it. “How’s the herd?”

“Oh fine. Just fine,” he said. “How’s it feeling?”

“Oh s’not too bad. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He must have tried to move because all of a sudden, he made a pained noise.

Mr. Favor let out a huff of a laugh. “You know, you’re not as good a liar as you think.”

“Who says I’m lyin’?”

“Ain’t that hard to tell,” Gil said, and by the way Rowdy quit protesting, Mushy guessed he was right about it. “Now tell it to me straight. How bad’s it really?”

Rowdy hesitated for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he said, “Hurts to breathe.” His voice was quiet, as though it was hard to admit and clearly it was. “Real bad.”

Mushy felt something sad wash over him at the words; it was the first time he’d heard Rowdy admit to anyone other that Wishbone that he was in pain.

He knew Rowdy didn’t like anybody thinking he was weak or that he couldn’t handle the job. He had more than proven that he was strong enough for all of this, but he still walked around with a chip on his shoulder for some reason.

“I’d take the pain from you if I could.” And if Mushy hadn’t been sitting right there, he never would’ve believed Mr. Favor to say such a thing.

“It’s alright. I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

“N’in a few days, I’ll be back good as new.”

“Better be.” Rowdy let out a small laugh at that.

It was quiet for a few long seconds. The only noise Mushy could hear was the sound fabric made when you touched it, almost like somebody was running their fingertips along it.

“You’re awful quiet. What’s eatin’ at you?” Rowdy asked.

“Oh nothin’.” Mushy could imagine the way the boss was probably shaking his head.

“You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure.”

“You just might be a worse liar than I am.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Says you,” he shot back. “What’s wrong?

“Nothin’,” Gil repeated, much too quickly for anyone to believe it to be the truth. He must have known that, too, because eventually he followed that up with, “Maybe I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright, you don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want. But you can. I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Rowdy said through a soft laugh, trying to ease some of the tension.

It must have worked because after a moment, Gil sighed. “Guess I didn’t like seein’ you like that today. All crumpled up. Not movin’ none.” He hesitated. “I don’t know. For a second I thought you was…” and his voice trailed off at the end of that statement. He didn’t have to finish for Rowdy to know what he was thinking.

“But I wasn’t.”

“Didn’t stop the thought from crossin’ my mind.”

“M’sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault. Just scared me is all.”

“Gil Favor, scared. Nobody’d believe me if I told ‘em,” Rowdy laughed.

“Not as far as they could throw ya,” he agreed.

There was another silent stretch before Rowdy spoke again. “You don’t gotta be scared over me.”

“Hardly think I can help it.”

“I know, but it’s gonna take a lot more than a nervous horse to get the best of me.”

“Yeah. Guess you proved that pretty good today,” Gil agreed and from his tone, Mushy guessed he was probably smiling now. “I think I should head out, let you get some rest.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Alright,” Rowdy said, sounding deflated.

“I’ll check on you in the mornin’ before we start movin’.”

“I’ll be here.”

It was quiet for what might’ve been a minute or two and Mushy was afraid maybe the boss had gotten stuck on something in there. He was about to go in and check when Mr. Favor finally pulled the curtain back to get out of the wagon. When he got out and finished putting the curtain back into place, he looked at Mushy and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Mushy smiled back wide in response. “Night, Boss.”

“Night.” 

 

* * *

 

It was a couple days before Rowdy was feeling well enough to ride again. When he was given a thumbs up to be back in the saddle, Mr. Favor said he didn’t want to put him back with the herd yet, just to be safe. So, he sent him into town to pick up the mail they were all expecting instead.

Sometimes waiting for mail took days. Mushy hoped that wouldn’t be the case today; he’d hate it if Rowdy had to spend all that time in town by himself. Sure, he was well enough to ride again, but if something went wrong, none of them would know about it and nobody would be able to help.

Wishbone gave Mr. Favor an earful about that particular concern, but he sent Rowdy out anyway. They could all see he was getting antsy being cooped up in camp all the time and they knew the task could help that, despite the danger.

Thankfully, he was only gone a couple hours this time. When he got back, he handed out everybody’s mail with an easy smile. He was visibly calmer than he had been that morning. Less jittery. Less on edge. It was a relief to know that the gamble to send him out was worth it.

Mushy noticed that after he was done with the mail, he went over to his horse. He took a quick look around to see if anybody was watching him and once he thought he was in the clear, he took something out of his saddlebag. It was a small brown paper bag filled with something Mushy couldn’t see. His guess was that Mr. Favor or Mr. Wishbone gave him money to get some medicine or something, not that it was any of his business. It was only a few seconds before Rowdy put the little brown bag back in his saddlebag and walked back towards camp.

Mushy all but forgot Rowdy even had anything in his saddlebag after that.

During lunch, Wishbone hounded him about how he was feeling. He’d have to be an idiot not to have expected it.

Rowdy played it tough at first, telling him that he was fine and that nothing was wrong, but Wishbone always knew better than to believe that.

After several minutes of persistent questioning, he was finally worn down enough to admit that he was having a little trouble breathing.

Wishbone tried to make him get back in the chuck wagon for rest, but Rowdy did have enough strength to fight that battle. He insisted that it wasn’t that bad and that he could rest out in the open.

“Are you crazy?” Wishbone asked.

“Not yet, but I will be if you make me get back in that wagon.”

“Rest’ll do you good.”

“I haven’t moved in five days, Wish. If I get any more rest, the boredom’s gonna kill me,” he argued.

“Fine,” Wishbone narrowed his eyes at him. “But when you get pneumonia, don’t come to me for no help.”

Rowdy smiled at his apparent victory. “You wouldn’t be able to stay away if I got sick.”

“Oh yeah? Well we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” He stormed off, mumbling to himself and leaving a fairly chipper Rowdy in his wake.

Even though he wasn’t in the wagon, Rowdy did as he was told and rested the whole rest of the day, only occasionally getting up to walk around. That was probably the biggest tell of all that he was in pain, but nobody mentioned it.

When it came time for everybody to bed down and mostly everybody was asleep, Mushy laid awake, looking up at the stars. He could see some strings of them and some constellations, but he couldn’t remember what any of them were called for the life of him. He’d ask Pete in the morning. He always knew what they were called.

He settled on counting the stars for now. He’d get all the way up to fifty and then restart back from zero. He’d lost track of how many times he’d done it now.

Somewhere in the silence, he heard a quiet rustle and a, “Psst.”

He turned over quietly and looked around to see where the noise was coming from.

Over on the edge of camp, he spotted Rowdy, who was lying on his side, facing towards Mr. Favor on the bedroll next to his, not even an arm’s length away.

“Boss,” he said softly. There was a smile playing at his lips.

Gil turned over to face him. “Hm?” he hummed.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

The boss shook his head. “I was up. What’s a’matter?”

“Nothin’,” Rowdy answered. “I uh-I have somethin’ for ya.”

He furrowed his brow. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Well, you know how you gave me that extra money to get some medicine in town today?” Mushy smiled to himself; he knew that was what was in the bag.

“Yeah,” Gil replied, suddenly sounding a little more awake than he’d been a second ago. “You did buy that medicine, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘ _not exactly_ ’?”

“You see I was gonna. But then I got into town and I was lookin’ around and I didn’t think I needed it so bad anymore.”

“Wishbone said-”

“I know what Wishbone said, but this was better.”

He sighed deeply. “Well, what is it then?”

“Here.” He grabbed that little brown bag that Mushy had seen him fiddling with earlier from underneath his blanket and handed it to him. “To sort of make it up to you. For not being around the last couple’a days.”

He scratched at his cheek before he put his hand back down at his side. A nervous habit of his that anybody could spot a mile away.

Gil took it and looked inside. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. When he looked back up, there was a small smile on his lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Felt like it,” Rowdy shrugged.

Mushy watched as Mr. Favor took what he realized was a piece of chocolate out of the bag and popped it into his mouth. He offered one to Rowdy, who took it and ate it happily. He looked like he was buzzing.

“I hope it’s alright. I didn’t know what kind you liked so-”

“S’my favorite,” Gil cut him off without hesitation.

“Oh,” Rowdy replied with a bashful, crooked smile and a soft laugh.

Gil ate two more pieces before he hid the bag under his own saddle, not wanting anyone to spot it and steal it while he was asleep. He didn’t indulge in much, but even he couldn’t deny that he probably had the worst sweet tooth out of any of them.

All the while, Rowdy was lying on his side watching him, eyes dancing in the firelight and obviously pleased. When Gil finished hiding the bag, he settled on his own side, facing Rowdy.

They laid there for a while, just sort of looking at each other. It was quiet around the camp, aside from the crackling fire and the hum of some of the drovers snoring.

It was as close to peace as anyone was ever going to get around here.

Gil reached over and put his hand on Rowdy’s cheek, thumb swiping gently over his cheekbone, fingertips lightly caressing the sensitive skin of his neck. Rowdy’s eyes fell shut, enjoying the gentle touch. His smile faded slowly and an expression suddenly much more serious took its place.

When he opened his eyes again, they were big and wide, slowly traveling down and back up Gil’s face. He held his gaze intently once they regained eye contact, almost like he was asking something. Gil gave one gentle shake of his head and a half smile that looked like something of an apology. Rowdy nodded once, seemingly understanding what he meant.

Gil’s hand moved from Rowdy’s cheek to his hair, carding his fingers through the thick strands for a moment before taking his hand back and putting it under his own blanket.

Mushy furrowed his brow. He couldn’t help but wonder what their silent conversation was all about. All the while, he was just as intrigued at the idea that they knew exactly what the other was thinking. It was beyond him how two people could get to be like that. Must be nice, he thought.

The next day, Mushy noticed that Mr. Favor reached into his saddlebag a lot more often than he normally would.

Mushy didn’t know why, but he smiled every time he saw it.

 

* * *

  

A few days later, Gil and Rowdy were scouting territory up ahead. Pete had liked the land well enough that he told them that they should go have a look for themselves. They agreed and Gil left Pete in charge while they were gone.

When they left, they had every intention of being back at camp before dark. They had taken their time going ahead though, both tired from long, hard days of work and more than happy to take it a bit slower than normal.

By the time they were ready to turn back, the sun was well on its way to being set and they figured it would be better if they made camp and headed back to the herd in the morning. Riding back at night just didn’t seem like it was much worth it.

Not like either of them minded a night away.

More often than not, it seemed like anything and everything that could go wrong on a cattle drive did. Gil was more than willing to tackle the challenges they faced with a sound mind and stern direction, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t get to be a little much sometimes. He’d take any opportunity he could get to take his mind off the herd if only for a little while.

Rowdy loved these kinds of nights because they gave him a chance to take a breath. Forget his worries. Look up at the stars and not have to worry about this and that and who’s fighting with who and who forgot to do what and why didn’t this one do that. All of that stuff made his head feel like it was spinning sometimes.

And neither of them would say it out loud, but they would never pass up the opportunity to get out of a camp full of prying eyes and loose lips.

It didn’t always used to be like this, what they had. It was one of these nights away when the words flew out of Rowdy’s mouth before he could stop them. He fully expected to get fired, sent away for good. He hadn’t expected Gil to feel the same and he certainly hadn’t expected to spend the rest of the night tangled up with his trail boss. But not a day went past that he wasn’t grateful he finally spoke up.

Since then, they hadn’t had many of these nights, maybe only a handful. It was hard keeping it all tucked away at camp, even though they both knew it was for the best.

But this time was precious. It was their’s.

So they were taking full advantage of the privacy, the openness, the quiet, the calm.

It was late by the time they were settled. It had rained a bit while they were riding and wet firewood was definitely less than ideal. It took Rowdy longer than he wanted to build the fire, sun fully set by the time he was done.

They bedded down near the fire, a chill running through the air. Their bedrolls were so close it was hard to even justify saying they were separate at all.

They leaned back against their saddles, both looking into the fire. Gil had an easy arm around Rowdy’s shoulders, fingertips tracing aimless patterns on his bicep. Rowdy was slouched against him, head tipped in such a way that it was basically pillowed in the crook of his neck. Gil rested his cheek on Rowdy’s hair, the soft strands tickling his skin.

“You’re warm,” Rowdy said, breaking the silence.

“Oh?”

“Mhm. S’nice,” he said softly and Gil felt something warm spread in his chest.

“Good.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire, shared blankets, and body heat keeping the cold air around them at bay.

Moments like this were few and far between. At camp, it was all fleeting, with stolen kisses while everybody else was asleep and gentle touches that never lasted more than a few seconds. Not here though. Nothing had to be hidden here.

It was Rowdy again who spoke first.

“M’tired.” The steady rise and fall of Gil’s chest against him had been lulling him to sleep for a while now. His eyelids felt heavy.

“So sleep,” he replied. Rowdy had felt more and more like dead weight as the minutes passed; it was only a matter of time before he knocked out.

“Don’t wanna.” Rowdy sounded like a child and Gil resisted the urge to laugh.

“Why’s that?”

“Cause we’re away from the herd.”

“And?”

“And nobody’s ‘round.”

“And you need sleep.”

“No I don’t I-” and Rowdy was cut off mid-sentence by a yawn, betrayed by his own body. “I guess I do.” His tone was flat, but his eyes were fluttering shut despite himself.

“There’ll be other nights.” Gil’s voice was soft. It was easy for him to forget they weren’t being watched, that he didn’t have to keep his voice down so nobody else could hear. He could read Rowdy’s mind though and knew exactly what was bothering him.

“You promise?”

“Promise.” Gil turned his head to press a kiss into Rowdy’s hair, almost like sign of his word.

“Alright.”

Rowdy pulled him down to lie with him. They laid nearly nose-to-nose wrapped up in each other, taking full advantage of the fact that they were able to do so. Rowdy was out almost the second they were settled and Gil followed not too long after.

Neither of them could remember a time they’d slept so easy. 

  

Unbeknownst to them was Mushy, who was over by a tree on the edge of their camp.

Mushy had been feeling a little more restless than normal and that always meant he was a little more clumsy than normal, too.

Before Wishbone could threaten smacking him with a frying pan for the fourth time that day, Pete sent him ahead to make sure the boss and Rowdy were alright, fully expecting Mushy to give up after an hour and just come back to camp, but he was dead wrong.

He rode up slowly just in case they were asleep. Instead, he had gotten there just in time to see and hear the whole exchange.

He’d never really known what to call it, what the boss and Rowdy had going on. He’d been seeing things for a while now and it was obvious there was something, but he always chalked it up to them just being closer than normal. But there was always that voice in the back of his head saying those little things could have been adding up to something more. He was never sure though.

Now he saw it with his own two eyes and it still didn’t shock him. If anything, it made more sense than anything.

He realized maybe he didn’t have to call what they had anything at all. They meant a whole lot to each other and that was that. That’s all there had to be to it.

He smiled to himself as he rode away. They were happy and safe and that’s all that mattered.

He might’ve been a little slow at times, but he sure could put this one together for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this one. These characters are so so fun to write so maybe I'll take more cracks at them? Who knows. 
> 
> Come hang at holdenduckfield.tumblr.com if you want!


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